It has been a mixed year. The first six months were perhaps, ordinary and there wasn’t anything much happening personally. The second half was an entirely different story. I have reached the heights of happiness and plummeted to the depths of despair, all in a space of weeks. If I probably get to live to a point of time when I’ll be resting on my armchair next to my ailing wife, 2011 won’t, by any circumstance, a year I’ll forget. Not one  worth remembering though.

There have been the good moments though. And atop that list stands the GMAT result – without a trace of doubt, the brightest spot of 2011. The result was not outstanding; I genuinely believe I had more in me, but I am fairly satisfied with the end-product. And importantly, there is good enough reason to believe that the result is the seed for the MBA tree to finally bear fruit. If all goes well, I could find myself somewhere outside India this time next year. And the MBA thing might just be going fine. So, the GMAT is definitely the high-point this year.

Nothing good has happened personally apart from that success, except that Manchester United knocked Pool off their perch and kick-started the current season with the Shield triumph. Its all gone wrong from there, but optimism never dies for the Red Devil. Come May, we’ll lift our 20th. Hopefully.

The only other positive thing might possibly be that I am still alive after two bike accidents – the first one, a particularly dangerous one. I end 2011 fit and fine, hale and hearty. All thanks to the one above. And STUDDS.

But then, despite the positives, I won’t look back at 2011 and smile. I can’t. The odd happy moment has been sandwiched by a series of disappointments. She tops that list and that disappointment is one which will roll on for quite a while. Somehow, its magnitude has even overridden the GMAT success, perhaps because it feels like a part of me has been taken away. Maybe for a short period of time, this situation was anticipated, but it has not stopped me from looking at the entire episode with the eyes of someone woefully short of self-esteem and pride. Many of my dreams have fallen by the wayside and several others are waiting to fall, but almost certainly, she will remain the biggest loss of my life. That disappointment alone, is probably enough, to label 2011 a disaster. And sadly, worse is being forecasted even as type this out.

And if that is not enough, there are a number of really close people whose personal troubles have had me shed a tear or two. Not that I could be of any help, but that has not stopped me from worrying about them or offering a word of advice. Nothing’s helped and hardly anything is looking bright. And just as is the case with me, the worst is perhaps, yet to come.

All this means I can hardly welcome 2012 with a smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye. There’s no end to hoping though. My only faith is in the second half of the year. It is highly possible that I get out of India and isolate myself from the folks back here. It might actually yield positive results on the MBA front, and at the moment, that’s the only good aspect I anticipate in the new year.

So, with twenty minutes to go before my clock reads 12, I’ll say goodbye. My 2011 resolutions have crashed disastrously,  and there is not much to hope for the coming year. Despite that, there are a couple of resolutions, which I decide to keep to myself. And I sincerely hope those close friends around me have a bright, colorful new year awaiting them. At least, next year this time, I hope they’ll look back and sincerely think I’ve had one of the best years of my life.

But then, its only my prayer. And sadly, of late, most of them have crashed. So, no real expectations for 2012. Just taking it as it comes….

P.S.  Happy New Year, wherever you are. Love you from my heart, all my readers….

Its been more than a couple of months now since that day, but evidently, things haven’t changed much. I have still not let go of her. I have still not been able to escape her – she exists everywhere. And that is not just because she had been a constant presence in my life over the last half a decade. Its because I had adapted myself to live life for her. Everything that I see, everything that I do reminds me of her. When I visit the ladies section in the mall to buy something for Mom, every color in the store reminds me of her. I begin my mental calculations on which would look good on her and which would be an absolute no-no. When I go to the guys’ section, I wonder which shirt she’d have approved of and which one she’d have shrugged away. Its the same everywhere – the junk food shop, the bookstall, the ice-cream parlor, the temple, the movie theatre, the restaurant and even the train and bus stations. I can run from the familiar to the unfamiliar but still be haunted by her thoughts. There’s a part of hers that exists in me which I’ll perhaps, never be able to wipe off completely.

And to add to that, she does not make things any easier for me. Every now and then, there’s the missed call or the message. They’re infrequent, but the occasional pop-up is a reminder that I still hold a place in her heart despite the fact that she is in total disagreement to my choice. Yes, I had to choose and I made a choice which seemed and still seems, a choice that I’d be better off with. Predictably, there were those who anticipated the breakup – the timid, spineless guy that I was, had done well enough to hold on this long – there were those who asked me not to lose hope and keep persisting while the rest of them either offered consolation with kind words – most of them of the nature ‘You will realize your decision’s soundness in the long run’ – or chose not to speak. Anyways, making the choice has left me with a heavy heart since then and the heaviness only grows when I realize that she is still hoping. Hoping desperatelythat a gargantuan miracle is on the cards and that things will be back to how they were.

And despite all my troubled nights, she remains my biggest worry. I’ll probably never know why, but she was completely obsessive over me. Obsessive beyond permissible limits. Its like she depended on me for everything in her life when she should not have. She made the teeniest of decisions in her life only after she had earned my approval. On the rare occasion that she got angry or overwhelmed by sadness, she’d still know that it was a passing phase and that things would be alright in a minute. It was a fact that everything seemed to click between us and to her, post-college life only seemed an extension of the relationship we were sharing. She hadn’t seen another future. She hadn’t imagined that she might have to live a future sans me. She did not want to. She had placed her trust in me. Her trust. I could not live up to it. And every time I think of it, its like a dagger being pierced down my heart. She’ll probably never ever say the words bluntly ever again to me, but if I ever happen to meet her sometime, her eyes will be full of questions. Questions to which she desperately seeks answers. I’d rather die than have to see her that way.

I’ve tried to start afresh but all my effort’s been in vain. The realization has come to me though. Some things in life are just not meant to be. I’ll have to accept her as a part of that what-if list. The best part of a list that I’ll have to permanently resign to the backdrop. And someday, I guess I’ll be able to shrug off her thoughts from me. Sometime in the future which I cannot envisage, I won’t be haunted by her anymore. Someday, I’ll learn that she’s living a normal life with her guy and her kids. And someday, I’ll be able to laugh through the past and think of it as a beautiful dream – one that I was fortunate to have experienced. And I’ll count myself lucky to have called her my own, briefly though it was. Someday, I’ll be able to live life with absolute freedom – a life without inhibitions and free from virtual bonds from the past.

But the question still lingers on – Do I ever want that day to come?

That is something I yet have to find an answer to…..

P.S. I have a notorious reputation for being a very fearful person and time and again, I have strengthened that claim. Just last week, while I was exchanging friendly banter with one of my closest colleagues, who is unaware of the recent developments in my relationship status, he pounced upon a suitable moment to mock me and my fearful attitude. He also dragged Mom and her into the picture, making it sound like we were the three most fearful people on the planet. And after he successfully accomplished the feat, he posed the question to me,

“Imagine Ajithe, Just you, Mom and her. All three of you together – people living in fear of anything and everything. What would life be like?”

I just smiled. If I actually did have Mom and her, would I really have anything else to worry about? Anything else to fear? Wouldn’t that be exactly what I’ve always prayed for over the last five years?”

I sighed and replied, “It would be Heaven, Bineshe. It would be Heaven….”

MBA plans and GMAT prep’ have been quoted as reasons for the same, and though that is largely true, I have to admit I kinda wished I had a break. Because it was becoming increasingly difficult for me to schedule any kind of leave plan – thanks to the growing workload – there seemed no other option for me than to think of something to which my manager could not say no to. This wasn’t perhaps, the best excuse I could give, but it seemed safer than the others, because it is the truth. MBA has been at the back of my mind for long now and though there were initial concerns about whether I should make a genuine effort at achieving it, I have finally decided that I should not add it to my already overflowing laundry list of unfulfilled ambitions. Thankfully, the manager had no qualms in completing the formalities and here I am now, slouched in my chair, sipping hot coffee and blogging away at will….

Its been a fairly straightforward life at Infy thus far, but I have to say, I have had plenty of sleepless nights driven out of compulsion, rather than out of choice. Several times I have come home by midnight only to see myself trudge back to office in the early hours of the next morning. And every time I step out, I notice my roommates snoring away and giving out the impression that no earthquake is going to wake them up from their slumbers. And here I am, half drowsy, half teary-eyed, pulling over my sling bag reluctantly and embarking on that 90-minute journey to office. And thinking of the long day that lay ahead…

So ever since I got that leave approval, I have been counting the days to my exit. Temporary exit, I should say though. But that hardly matters. The important thing is, in these two months, I would have gone a long way in deciding where my future lies. Whether I find myself at some prestigious B-School in the future or whether I am bound to be stuck up at Infy for the rest of my life. My sloppy preparation schedule has hardly helped matters but knowing me and the way I work, I have not reached levels of extreme concern.

So, now that the honeymoon period has begun, you’d expect me to be in my pink, smiling at everything around and looking at life with rose-tinted glasses. Sadly, thats not the case. Far from it though.

Maybe it had to do with the manner in which I said my temporary goodbyes or maybe, it was just the simple fact that I am naturally an overly emotional character. Either way, the events of the day did matter. We were having a rather delayed Onam Celebration event at Infy and I was looking particularly good that day in a bluish-greenish-I-seriously-do-not-know-what-shade kurta kinda short top and a mundu to go with it, though not one of my umpteen colleagues or friends mentioned a word about it or looked at me in that ‘OMG!! You look stunning‘ manner, which to be fair, I expected. Well, I always think highly of myself, so there was no real reason to feel disappointed. Plus, with most formalities from my side completed, I was relatively unoccupied that day and could actually move around the Food Court and the Leisure Block with plenty of time to kill. And the on-stage events of the evening were a refreshing change from the normal, monotonous work thats been surrounding me for the past six months. Everything seemed so wonderful that day that for a moment, I did wish I was not leaving for the next couple of months.

But as always, it had to be the people. I could go to Hell, if I had the right people with me. I could return to Hell, if I knew I had the right people waiting for me. Infy isn’t comparable to Hell, I should say, but leaving a place where I had plenty of thick friends was expectedly difficult. It all started with my colleague who normally appears a composed soul but on this particular day, this guy genuinely seemed upset that I would not be around for some time. It could be because he would now have to impart KT for the replacing resource, but I could sense in his voice a tinge of disappointment. Or maybe, I was imagining stuff like the emotional guy in me always does.

That was just the start. From then on, everyone I said goodbye to seemed to be a touch concerned that I’d be absent for a while now. Thats not just my good friends or classmates; its also including colleagues and acquaintances, some of whom I had barely talked to. The biggest of them all, came from someone I did not expect it to be coming from. The guy’s been among my closest friends ever since I landed at M-City, but he usually keeps sentimental words to himself and is always seen sporting a smile and chipping in with a PJ. Today was different though. He was his usual self throughout the day but when the time came to say goodbye, the gloom showed on his dial. He made a soft attempt at concealing it, but there was no way he was going to mask what he was feeling then. I chose to ignore it and turned away. I had nothing to say. I was going away. Period. I’ll miss him and if I’d said that, it’d have only doubled the hurt. Silence is Golden, after all.

And the rest of the night just passed on. Perhaps, even while leaving the campus and getting into the bus, all seemed well. The two-hour journey to Guindy changed my mood completely. It gave me the realization that October and November are not going to be as simple as I anticipated them to be. I knew I would not be going back in a while and that I wouldn’t be seeing certain souls for quite some time. Maybe the place does matter, but it all boils down to people. I am going to miss a number of souls. I know I’ll be back in two months, but it is a considerably long time period for someone who rarely skips office and gets to meet his good friends every day.

I’m happy that I’m free from virtual shackles, but I deeply miss Infy. The FC. The Fruit Shop. The North Meals and the Fried Rice. The people. The train and bus rides. When I come to think of it, there were some wonderful things about the workplace. Things that I looked forward to amidst the hectic schedule. People I looked forward to seeing everyday. Knowing that some of these people will be in limited touch for the next couple of months, is not easy to swallow. Maybe I can adapt, I hope.

And I cant help thinking that should all go well, I’d find my way out of Infy next May. I had promised a certain soul tears and hugs, and judging by the events of yesterday, I’ll not be surprised if that actually happens. It is when I think of certain such souls that I wish my MBA preps go awry. If there is a reason I’ll ever want to go back, its because I know there’ll be those people around. And thats a good enough reason, I believe….

So maybe, I should just take it easy and be casual about this whole MBA thing… Oct’ and Nov’ can indeed be the honeymoon period… with an ending that’s probably the best God has in store for me…. and I know He wont disappoint….

Another Independence Day has passed. And yes, it was just another day to me. I look outside my window and spot the Indian flag hanging on cars and bicycles and fluttering atop houses and roadside stalls. Yes, everyone around knew that it was August 15. Not that it needed any reminder anyway….

Personally, as far as I can remember, this day has been welcomed with a warm heart. The warmth had less to do with my fore-fathers, their freedom struggles and the ultimate eviction of the British and more to do with the fact that it was always a holiday and almost always, fell on a weekday i.e. I found myself at home when I should have been listening to my teachers’ lectures at school. Good enough reason to love the date….

Years down the line, when my views are far more organised now, I am now able to perceive the importance of the day, view it in a more sensible light and can frame my thoughts better. And sadly, those thoughts don’t reflect a happy picture. Rather, the picture is far from bright and colorful.

It is about the very essence of the word INDEPENDENCE. I know they say we kicked the British outta here, and that we are free to do what we wish to, in a land we can call our own. Fair enough. But is that all? Was driving away the British the answer to the laundry list of problems that India were facing then? And are still facing today? Situations may be improving but will we ever be able to put an end to the fundamental issues that have been haunting our nation since time immemorial?

That is where we still need to gain freedom from. The caste system, customs, traditions, rituals and what not. I am appreciative of several values followed amongst us Indians which are perhaps, alien to the West, but that is a tiny list compared to the huge shopping cart of practices that should long have been eliminated from our system. The caste system – and it is the umpteenth time in the last five years that I have written something against it – is almost certainly. the biggest drawback amongst us. Why? Why on earth do we need such a division? Why do we have to look at each other as backward or scheduled or upper? Why cant we get rid of the system once and for all , and start accepting each other as sons of God? What is the point of proclaiming on August 15, that we are an independent nation, if we are still live by a set of rules and practices which exists for no reason whatsoever? I know some call it historical continuity, but in reality, it is just plain bullshit. There is no point in continuing a tradition which makes absolutely no sense these days. All it does is to create a virtual divide between two very similar people.

Its not just about traditional practices; its about attitude as well. Sixty-four years into Independence, we are still a developing nation.  Think about how many people would spit on roads, pee on the streets and even defecate openly. Think about the sky-high levels of pollution in this country. In my opinion the filth, squalor and all around pollution indicates a marked lack of respect for India by Indians. At times the smells, trash, refuse and excrement are like a garbage dump. Littering is a given – roadwalks, sideways, you name it. Speaks volumes of us Indians and our sorry attitude….

And then, there are the money-minded netas, internal politics, needless redtape and the eternal issue of bureaucracy and corruption. Corruption is at an all-time high, and I strongly believe no LokPal bill or Anna Hazare can do anything about it. Worse, if the system actually comes into effect, we shrewd Indians would find a loophole in the process and exploit it to our benefit.

I could go on for quite some time about my perception of India and its problems, but in all seriousness, I don’t think anyone in India really cares. And that, to me, is the biggest problem. India is too conservative a society to want to change in any way. No one seems to give a shit. Seriously, I just never have the impression that the Indian government really cares. Just put in your hours and collect your month-end wage. Happy, happy life….

One would expect a certain amount of backwardness, in a country that hasn’t produced so many Nobel Laureates, nuclear physicists, imminent economists and entrepreneurs. But India has all these things and what have they brought back to India with them? Nothing. The rich still have their servants, the lower castes are still there to do the dirty work and so the country remains in stasis. It’s a shame. India has many wonderful things to offer the world, but I’m far from sanguine that India will amount to much in my lifetime.

So before you get  angry about India’s whitewash in England, hold your horses. If we Indians want to get angry about something, here’s a little list to get them started, and it is by no means complete. Politicians who take bribes. Leaders unrepentant about hundreds of deaths in riots under their watch. Rural schools that lack blackboards, chalks and teachers who fail to turn up at schools, but give private tuitions to the children of those who can afford to pay them. Public hospitals that fail to provide healthcare to the poor. Police officers who think nothing of custodial deaths and cannot provide a coherent explanation about what happened. And the enduring shame of women not being able to walk freely on Indian streets, without fear, without being leered at, harassed or molested.

Hopefully, a time will come when India will be free from all these issues. Apart from that gargantuan list, we will be able to think as rational human beings and not yield to customs and traditions that have been needlessly, ruining the social makeup. When that day comes, we can proudly dance on the streets and claim ourselves to be independent. Until then, we will have to just celebrate the holiday just like it was during school…

P.S. All this is in the backdrop of a potential issue that I may not have been facing, had I been somewhere in the West. Despite all my writing, nothing’s going to change. And if that change ever happens, I know I will regret the fact that it had come way too late. And that it should have happened long back…

Grade V. Annual Day Celebrations. As had become customary to me on this day, I was waiting in the Toppers’ Room amidst other ‘intellectuals’ after topping Grade IV and maintaining my unbeaten streak. Gupta Sir, the only male staff from the Girls’ Section who looked so much like a certain Mr. WeatherBee, walked towards me. Pen and paper in hand. I wondered what he wanted to ask me and smiled at him as he approached me.

“Ajith Menon?”

“Yes Sir”.

“So you are the Grade IV topper?”

“Yes Sir”.

“Okay. So tell me Ajith, what do you want to become in future?”

I smiled again at him. It was an easy question to answer, particularly for someone like me. I always knew I was not going to swim away from the tide and would mostly end up being a doc or an engineer. Consequently, I had no hesitation in replying to GS and ended up giving that clichéd answer.

“I want to become a doctor, Sir”.

GS smiled at me. I could see the reason behind that. It was perhaps, the tenth time he was receiving the response in that room. An equal number from the Girls’ Section too, I could imagine, if not more. No wonder he was scratching the few hairs that remained on his otherwise bald head.

Forty minutes later, I walked on to the dais and collected my certificate and prize, with Gupta Sir’s voice booming in the background, “He wants to be a doctor”. I bowed down to the audience – we were taught to do that – and left the stage, beaming like a 100-Watt bulb.

     September 2002

Five years later. Same occasion. Same room. The usual suspects. And the same interviewer – only that GS’ tummy size had gone up a few notches while the few head-hairs that remained had now vanished from sight.

And the same question. Only that this time, the answer was different.

“I want to be a cricketer”.

GS’ eyeballs almost popped out of his sockets. He seemed displeased with that reply but was happy that he did not have scribble down doctor for yet another person. My reason for the answer was quite simple. I had just been part of the cup-winning side in the inter-school cricket tourney. Moreover, it was a period of time where we were sweeping trophies in the inter-house cricket tournaments in a season which we used to term The Green Revolution, green being the color of the house I represented.

And while I collected my certificate and prize, GS’ voice boomed. “He wants to be … a cricketer”.

His voice went down as he completed the sentence. The degree of hesitation while he said the last couple of words was also evident. I could also make out that certain sections of the audience were dissatisfied with that reply, but I chose to ignore that. I could not ignore my Mom though, who disapproved of my answer and expectedly, gave me a piece of her mind when we were back home.

These are just two instances that come to my mind when someone asks me about my long-term ambition. There are numerous other occasions where I have had to face that question and almost each time, I had had a different reply. Actor, singer, athlete, sportsman…. My choice varied from time to time in different phases of my life. In each of these phases, I had people around me who knew what they had to do with their lives and worked towards achieving that goal. For some reason, I was never that way. Frankly, I have never had any long-term objectives. I have always looked at the immediate goals – getting good grades at Class X and XII, getting into a decent college and pursuing anything that will guarantee me a safe future, ticking off paper after paper in my college syllabus book, attaining campus placement and walk off after four years with a smile on my face and a degree certificate on my hand.

And at the end of those four years at GEC, despite all the tears and nostalgia, I had reasons to smile. Ajith Menon B.Tech. Computer Science. Placed at Infosys Technologies Ltd. Yes, life was good, even without long-term planning.

And even though I have been happy with the way I have lived and find absolutely no reason for regret, I have asked myself that question plenty of times. What really do I want to be? Now that I have narrowed down my options and several possible choices are now largely improbable, the answer should be so much simpler. There’s no way I am becoming a doctor or a cricketer now. It should be easier for me to know where my life is heading to. But no. I still don’t know what to do with my life. There are plans of MBA but do I really wish to do it? I don’t know. Why am I even thinking of doing it? Simply because it will ensure good money in the long run. So is money my objective? Not really; I will be happy the way I am right now, even after 25 years.

So after having asked myself several stupid questions and having formulated several nonsense theories, I have finally zeroed upon what I feel is almost the right answer to my twenty-year old question.

I WANT PEOPLE TO CRY AT MY FUNERAL

     Yes, I know it sounds quite crazy and is a bit of a long-term objective which almost everyone desires, but I do believe my case is different. This is not just another desire; I have silently wished for it time and again at almost every stage of my life that I can remember. Yes, if I were given a choice, I definitely would not want that moment to arrive for me or for anyone else, but because the world does not work the way I wish, I have ended up thinking about it an enormous number of times for someone in his early twenties. Trust me, I am not blabbering stuff out here. I know that’s exactly what I want. More or less.

My usage of the word people in that statement might require some clarification. I know my next-door neighbor, who hardly knows my name, won’t come to my funeral and beat her chest and create a scene. It is quite difficult to put a filter criterion here, but I would like to think that it includes every soul who has got to know the real person that I am. My parents, my siblings, cousins, best friends, good friends, colleagues and maybe even my family doctor who perhaps, knew I was going to breathe my last soon.

But then, as always, there are the conditions. The disclaimers. Yes, I would love to know that there are several hearts that are going to be broken when my heart-rate meter finally reduces to a single line but I sincerely wish not a single person sheds a tear for me as a mark of mere formality. I don’t want to be just another person in their lives. I want to leave a mark in their minds; an imprint in their hearts. I want them to spare a moment solely for me and think of me as one of the most special people to have touched their lives. So much so that once I am gone, I would want that void to remain unfilled. Forever.

And as always, there’s the question. Why? Why would anyone consider me that way? In what way am I different from any other normal, average person? I have no answer. Being the darling of the family, I can expect my parents, Bro and maybe a couple of cousins to pound their chests and weep inconsolably but that’s it. And yes, a couple of really close friends. And her, who would be close to tears, even if I was on sick leave. Despite all that, at the end of the day when I look at that list, I can hardly see ten people. And that brings us back to the same question. Why would anyone else miss me?

     And yet again, I have nothing to say. All I can attribute it to, is the way I have lived my life; the way I have lived all these years. I have valued friendships and relationships more than anything else and I have invested hundred percent in ensuring that they remain fresh and transparent. I have always tried to spread warmth and happiness and bring a smile to every face around me even if, at times, I may have to compromise a tad. I have had to be accommodating and submissive on several occasions, but I believe they are worth it. I have had people telling me several times that my friendships are founded on fear and pain of loss rather than trust and understanding. They are wrong. I don’t know how I can possibly prove it but having earned a considerable number of very good friends over three phases of my education, I know for certain that I am right. And those friends can probably testify my claim.

When I look at the entire picture, the pivotal factor seems obvious. I want to be loved by everyone the way I love them. There are certain specimens in my life with whom I have not harbored the best of relations and if they do not come to my funeral, let alone cry, that is not perhaps, a reason to feel worried. But there are certain others who I value a lot. Some very splendid, priceless souls. People who I have been blessed to meet during my time here. People, without whom, my life would have been less colorful and less wonderful. But there comes the afore-mentioned pivotal factor. Do I mean the same to them? Or am I just another of their large cluster of friends? I would love to believe that I am special to them, simply because they are special to me. I know it is not as simple as it sounds, but having strived to stand out from the others, I find no harm in expecting people to consider me different from the rest of the lot.

If  God spares me instant death, someday, I will be lying on my deathbed, smiling weakly at my ailing wife, holding my children’s hands, kissing my grandchildren and looking at all of them with heavy eyes and a heavier heart. And hopefully, there will be almost all of those priceless souls I mentioned earlier; all of them hoping that I would still stick on for at least a year or two. All I expect from you is to give me that feeling that I have talked off throughout this post. The feeling that I will be deeply missed. The feeling that I will be irreplaceable. The feeling that even if a thousand people come to take my place, there will always be one me. One person to have touched your lives nobody ever has.

To all those out there who genuinely love me for who I am, Thank You for giving me a life worth living. I will never ever know what my afterlife is like, or whether there will ever be anything like it at all, but if I have a second life here, I would wish to have people like you amidst me. People who have been with me through thick and thin and who have constantly reminded me that I am an integral part of their lives. And I’ll be equally honored if I have been able to make you smile at any point of time and if when I bid you all farewell, you will shed a tear and remember all the wonderful days we have had together and wish that I were with you forever. There’s nothing that can make me happier than realizing that it is that way…

P.S. When that day finally arrives, I will take away a handsome face from this planet – one which everyone wrongly assumed was handed over by God, but in truth, was brought about by the virtues I imbibed in my soul as I grew up. Thanks to those virtues, I know its not wrong of me to expect whatever I have written in this post. I just hope I won’t have to be disappointed….

Naveen, my roommate a.k.a house mate a.k.a classmate a.k.a my real close friend who moves in when my Mom moves out and vice-versa, calls me in the morning. We had both started for office quite early and I anticipate it to be a routine call, to ensure that I had reached office safe and sound. As if it was my first day to M-City!!!!

I answer the call and reply to him before he asks me the expected question.

“Aa Naveene, I have reached here”.

“Not that, Ajii. There’s something else I want to talk about”.

“Yeah, tell me”.

“I was wondering whether you would be interested in a movie this weekend. That Hrithik movie is releasing today and I was planning to book tickets at some place”.

I ponder about it for a moment. Of late, I had been living on a shoestring budget and though my extravagant side occasionally came to the fore, most expenses of mine were subject to analysis by the financial committee of my mind. I realized it had been a considerably long time since I visited a movie theater and consequently, despite the afore-mentioned tight pockets, I respond affirmatively.

“Yezz, Mr. Naveen. What izz the movie name?”

“Zindagi Naa Milegi Dubara”.

“ZNMD. Hmmm…. Okay. Count me in. Have you asked the others?”

“The others? Who?”

I smile at his query. “What do you mean who? Manji and Aswin.”

“Oh yes”, he replies, slapping himself in the cheek for having forgotten his two roommates a.k.a co-parasites. “Illa. I have not asked them”.

“In that case…”, I respond, “I’ll call them and check. Will let you know by 10 or so..”

“Okay”.

We chat for a couple more minutes on possible movie theaters, convenient timings, the distance factor and the related issues. For some reason, Naveen seemed intent on Mayaajaal. He claimed that there were more vacant seats at that place, than at Satyam, Inox and Escape put together. I did not dispute. I hung up the phone and wondered to myself how I was going to convince Manji and Aswin to drag their behinds for a Hindi movie.

An hour later, I prepared myself for the ordeal. Yes, making a call sounds simple, especially if you are doing it to two people you are sharing your place with, but I was not the least bit comfortable. But then, it had to be done and the sooner, the better. I said a quick, silent prayer and dialed the number.

9176611721. First Stop, Manuel A.J.

The best thing about Manji is that he almost never misses calls. You dial his number and if he does not pick up, you can expect him to be in a critical meeting with Francisco D’Souza or in a more critical position at the restroom. Sadly though, this time, I was hoping he would not pick up the first time round. I had to bring out the right words; I had to get him to agree on the spot. Manji, dont answer, I kept saying to myself.

And hardly had I completed pleading when I heard Manji’s enthusiastic voice holler over the phone. He had picked up on the first ring again. Damn!!

“Hello Ajii?”

“Aa Manji, its me”.

“Yes, what is it Aji?”.

I took a deep breath before I posed the question. “Manji… you interested in a movie this weekend?”

I waited in bated breath for his response. I was assured it would not be positive.

“Which movie, Ajii?”

“Its a Hindi Movie. Not sure of the name. Its that Hrithik movie. Very good one, Manji. I just read a couple of reviews..”

I gave Manji a second to think about it, while I simultaneously Googled ZNMD.

I got the response almost immediately and unsurprisingly, it was along expected lines. “Ajii, I want to rest during the weekends. A movie will drain all my energy. Its going to be really tiring…”

I had already had my counters prepared. “Its okay, Manji. We can go on Saturday. That way, you can rest on Sunday, even if you are not feeling well. Moreover, everyone’s coming too. Including Aswin”.

I was hoping my last statement would turn out to be my trump card. It was. It, kind of, got him into thinking that even the I-am-a-bit-clumsy-at-times Aswin was coming along, just to spend some time with the rest of us. It got him to respond positively. For once, I had some use of Aswin.

“Okay, Ajii. When’s the show?”

“There’s one at 5.. and one at 7.55. I was thinking five is better. We can return early, na…”

“Okay”.

“Okay”.

An okay on either side and the call was done. One up; one more to go. But having talked to Manji, I knew what exactly I had to tell Aswin. And I was sure he would not object. Throw in a couple of kuttas and muthes, and maybe, he would even pay for my ticket.

“Aswine, everyone is coming. Including Manji”.

I was certain Aswin’s eyeballs would have popped out of his sockets. “Manji is coming?”

“Yes. He said he wanted to watch the movie”.

A bewildered Aswin responded, “Do anything. I want to watch Deiva Thirumagan, but I know you guys wont come”.

“I have no probs, Aswine. But Manji and Naveen wont understand a word. You know that they dont know Tamil like us, alle?”

He half-smiled, half-sighed.

“So, its fixed. There’s a show at 7.45, but it’ll be late when we reach home. We can go for the 5 o’clock show”.

“Five? I don’t know whether I can make it. We have a volleyball match tomorrow at three”.

I remembered him telling me about it. About the smashing, the receiving and the uh… fingering!!!

“But thats okay”, he continued. “It should take only an hour”.

“Good. So its fixed, okay? I shall ask Naveen to book the tickets”.

“Okay”, he responded, more disappointed than satisfied.

Five minutes later, I called up Rahul, got his confirmation and dialed Naveen’s number. He answered almost immediately, as if his life depended on the news I had to give him.

“So? You called?”

“Yes”, I replied, giving him the green signal. “Book for five people”.

“Who’s the fifth?”

“Rahul”.

“Oh, Rahul. Aa mandanum varunnundo?”

“Yes. He will be coming home tonight”.

“Okay. So 5 people, Maayaajal, 5 pm. Right?”

“Yezzz”.

“Okay”.

“OKay”.

The line went dead.

So, the calendars were blocked. Saturday evening was busy for each of us. Ten minutes later, Naveen gave me the confirmation that the booking was done. Cool, I muttered to myself. Cant wait for tomorrow evening.

July 16 – Saturday

Now I should tell you I wasn’t particularly excited about ZNMD, but when I woke up next morning, there seemed to be an unusual, different feeling in the air. (And an extremely horrible feeling in my tummy, presumably thanks to the 14-rupee idly from the previous night; more on that later though). It was like I could almost sense that this would be a landmark day; a day that would live on in my mind for quite some time. I anticipated the movie to be supercool, some of the songs to be absolutely romantic or nostalgic or some other pleasing ingredient thrown into the movie in ridiculously high volumes. That was probably, when the anticipation kicked in and from then on, I was counting the minutes to five o’clock.

By seven-thirty, Rahul made his exit, claiming to have class till four o’clock. and assuring us that he would reach Mayaajaal by five. I have my doubts though, on whether college was his destination. I wont be surprised if I find him outside Lovely Bakery, sipping lime juice with a hottie classmate. Though I assume, she would ditch Rahul and come running behind me, heart in sleeve.

Aah! That’ll be some day

Okay. Everyone else woke up early, thanks to the power cut. Aswin debated for an hour on what jersey he wanted to put for that tournament of his – Yes, that cranky, loony soul wanted a track pant and a tee to don during that absolutely crappy game - and after he was subject to some verbal jousting from me and Naveen, the three of us went off to have lunch. Lunch was wonderful, considering that we expected to lose more money, be served late and the food to be below average. None of the above happened, but seriously, I have a suggestion to the guys at Kuttanadu. Get a generator, you idiots.

Forty minutes later, I-have-been-perspiring-all-my-life Naveen and Jesus-Tell-Me-What-Should-I-Do Aswin walked out with full tummies. Followed by me, my tummy better, free from the horrible morning feeling. Together, we walked to Adyar Depot and simultaneously discussed why it would be better for Aswin to boycott the match. He disagreed. We closed a few issues on where to meet and when to meet and he set off on a share auto to Thors. Thoraipakkam, for those who are not used to the Infy lingo.

I and Naveen decided not to walk back home under the scorching sun and instead, took shelter in Cotton House. We went there to have a look at tees, but thirty minutes later, Naveen walked out empty-handed, while I was the proud owner of a peacock blue short kurta and a Manchester United cap. And yes, not to forget my day’s big buy – a spectacularly awful-looking trouser, the likes of which would have made The Zohan proud. (I am considering putting a pic of that; to vote Yes, send ‘Y’ to 9176446746; others please don’t vote. Fifteen votes and my pic will be in the blog).

Three-fifteen. Deciding that we will not be going home, we call up Manji, ask him to take the ticket and come to Thiruvanmiyur Depot by 3.45. He agrees, albeit reluctantly, considering that he was watching Indiana Jones and was not pleased at having to get up from the bed. We roam around in Connexions, looking for nothing in particular, when my cell rings. I see a missed call from the international volleyball champion.

“Ajithe, Aswin has missed me”.

“Athe, he has missed me too. Lemme try”.

I dial. He picks up instantly.

“Ajithe..”

“”Yes, what is it? Is your match done?”

I could hear him chuckling. And he gives me the breaking news of the day.

“The match was over ten minutes back. I am all fresh and ready to go”.

“Eh? Over so quick?”

“Yes. They started before I reached. I played as a second-set substitute. All I got were two balls to my side”.

“And?”

“Both returns went out. Nammal thotu…”

It was quite silent inside the Connexions showroom and even a pin-drop would have echoed in the hall, but after that statement, there was no way I was going to control myself. I broke into splits of laughter, Naveen joining in the fun and scoffing at Aswin. He had taken all the pains and debated endlessly, just to go to Thors and be part of a losing side. Splendid, Ponton!!

“So when will you be back? We are waiting at Thiruvanmiyur Signal”.

“I will wait here. I need to use the restroom”.

“Pee on the street. You Indians do that anyway”.

“This is not just peeing. This is one level higher”.

I smile. “Okay. In that case, we will be at Thors in twenty minutes. Manji should be hear anytime now”.

“Okay”.

What followed in the next twenty minutes ranks right up there among the most frustrating twenty minutes of my life. The thing is, I hate being late for movies. Being late for anything, for that matter. Manji still had not started from home, while updates poured from Aswin that he was travelling all the way to Velachery to you-know-what. Shit!, both I and Naveen exclaimed at that news. For once, that word made the right sense.

By four-ten, both Manji and Aswin were with us at Thiruvanmiyur Depot. Two minutes later, we were on an auto to Mayaajaal , chatting with each other and rejoicing in the fact that Aswin had contributed to his team’s cause. The losing cause, that is. Meanwhile, Rahul reported that his day with the chicks was done, he had kissed them goodbye and was waiting at Shols. Okay. He would be there by four-forty-five. Good.

The ECR Drive was good. You could spot the area becoming more scenic and the roads becoming far neater than the ones in the city. By four-fifty, we were at the complex. Loads of good-looking, scantily-clad ladies dominated our line of vision while Aswin seemed content to daze in the direction of not-so-good-looking-but-I-think-they-are-cute Tamilian girls. We hurriedly made our way to the Internet Booking Counter after Rahul informed us that the queue was huge.The queue was tiny, hardly comparable to any of those Infy Lunch queues. Naveen joined in the end, ticket in hand. Two minutes later, he had reached the other end of the queue.

Now, take a minute and get yourself composed. What you are going to hear next will not be pleasing, unless you are a cold-blooded sadist.

The rest of us were chatting merrily with each other while Naveen stood in the queue. He emerged later, ticket in hand, with a confused expression on his face. I walked towards him.

“You got the ticket, right?Paam?”

“Wait a minute. Is today not the 15th?”

Oops, Shit, Crap, Damn, F***… all those four-letter words popped up in my mind as Naveen asked those words. I looked at Rahul and raised my eyebrows. Rahul looked at me and raised his. Naveen, confused and bewildered, looked at us and raised his. It was one of those eyebrow-raising sessions, which got Manji and Aswin raising their eyebrows in wonder at what was happening.

“Today is the 16th, Naveene”, I replied, half-laughing, half-disappointed. “How on earth could you go wrong?”

Naveen shook his head. He was struggling to find words. “No, no.. I remember clicking on Saturday and proceeding….”

Rahul smiled at me. “Today is 16th”, he confirmed. As if I needed any confirmation. I was always sure. More or less….

The news filtered to Manji and Aswin and the five of us stood in the midst of that madding crowd, with no clue on what to do next. We had options perhaps, but the brutality and the enormity of that reality would take time to sink in. If it would sink in at all, that is. It was not easy knowing that your seven-hundred bucks had gone down the drain with no use whatsoever. It was a sad thing.

“How could you click on 15?”

“You did not check Saturday?”

“Why did you book on Friday?”

“I… remember clicking Saturday..”

“You must have refreshed the page…”

“Enthokke aayirunnu.. Machine Gun-u…” “Bomb-u…”

“Forget it….”

“No.. I did not refresh..”

“Bomb-u…”

“The click did not click…”

“Olakkade moodu…”

“You sure it is 15?”

“Angane Pavanaai Shavamaayi…”

End result. No movie. Ticket Nahi Milegi Dubara.

We thought about enquiring about refunds or ticket transfers but we knew it was pointless. We pondered about getting in for another movie but unavailability of tickets prompted us to return to Chennai. in fact, Manji and Aswin appeared doubly pleased that it had not worked out; the former, because he was real tired, and the latter because, that Vikram movie was now in the reckoning again. Phew!!

We started on our way back. And I can bet, with Naveen’s mindset at that point of time, the auto guy was fortunate not to get a piece of Naveen’s mind. Like the others, my thoughts stayed at Mayaajaal. Frankly, I was less upset about not being able to see the movie. I was more worried about Naveen. I could gauge what thoughts were going through his mind. I had been in similar situations and could fully comprehend his situation. I tried to convince him that the movie was worthless and that we could always download it, but my reputation hardly did me a favor. It was a lost cause. No amount of convincing would improve that situation.

Thankfully though, the day ended in laughs and nobody talked about the forgettable outing. We took a sojourn to the Fruit Shop, had dinner at one of those thattukadas and ended up watching CockTail while I typed out the day’s adventures in this post. Funnily, at the end of it all, it seems like a day well spent. Just hope though that such well-spent days will be few and far in between.

P.S. And at the end of it all, Naveen remarked, “So now, thanks to me, all of us have learnt a lesson. When you book online, book for less amounts”.

He surely had not learnt the lesson, my absent-minded roommate, who is going to walk away today coz my Mom comes tomorrow. Am expecting more of the same from him in the coming weeks…

My belief has to do with experiences. And trust me, I have had enough to label my instinct true. Maybe it has been because every time I laugh my (you know what!) off, I have a feeling at the back of my mind that I should not be doing it. It is like reminding myself that I will have to repent later for that uncontrollable laughter session. My colleague scoffs at me when I tell him of this thought – maybe he is right – but somehow I just cannot get myself to believe it. Experiences have hardened my thoughts. Every time I realize that I have crossed a self-imposed laughter/happiness limit, something goes wrong within a couple of days. Something terrible enough to bring me to tears (though thats pretty easy). For some reason, that logic does not come to my head while I am depressed but again, I can look back and quote several instances where I have wept inconsolably and found myself down in the pits. And something that brings a smile to my face awaits me the following day. It is all His calculated game of Snakes & Ladders. One move takes us to the heights of happiness and the subsequent one sees us plummet to the depths of despair. Simply put, its all child’s play.

It all seems improbable and I know you will have several reasons to think that my notion is flawed, but should the idea be true, the world will seem brighter. Even if you dont have a rosy-eyed vision. All that you probably need to do is know your limits – your happiness threshold. Cross that and you will pay in volumes. Stick below it and you are likely to escape with just a bruise or two. Dont tell me I did not warn you…

P.S. Okay. Having typed out all that crap – which I still believe in by the way – I am now implored to tell you that I am going through a difficult phase, one that I dont expect to end anytime soon. But despite that, I am still carrying a smile on my phase. And still find reasons to smile amidst all the turmoil. Maybe I have a point in this cranky post, after all….

Anyways, during that fifteen minute call (which, I guess, is the longest I have ever spoken to him over the phone), his one concern amongst others, was why I had discontinued blogging. To be fair, I don’t have a genuine reason. I easily term it ‘Work Overload’ but the truth is far from it. I have been doing quite a bit of writing in my official blog (literally) and that has largely satisfied my appetite. But more importantly, since that journey from Chennai to Mysore a couple of years back, life has been largely dull. There was the initial excitement when the first salary presented itself, but a couple of months down the line, when the work environment got to me, life was no longer a bed of roses. Even when the weekend approached, I looked at the desert beyond that two-day oasis. It was so damn monotonous; just the same routine over and over again. Correction, it is still so damn monotonous. Worse, in fact.

Anyways, when Friday finally does come around, everyone else in the world might go nuts and maybe even publish videos on YouTube (yes, the name’s Rebecca Black) while I still see the week that comes after the two-day breather. And that is not a pleasant thought. In fact, it just spoils those two days as well.

And just when I hoped I would be able to free myself from that kind of undesirable foresight, my prayers were answered. Rather negatively, I should say though. I now dont have five working days to anticipate and shed a tear over. Coz’, ladies and gentlemen, I am working on the weekends as well. Yes, as if five days were not enough, they have thrown in an additional couple of days to meet business requirements as well as, in corporate lingo, prevent SLA breaches. And I am not supposed to question why. Thats how busy the times are, my PM responded when she got to find out. I am not supposed to counter-question. I just have to make the three-hour two-way journey and get my backside to the workplace.

So I sincerely apologize to my good friend plus any other isolated reader who has had to be disappointed with me over the last couple of years. Thats how tied up I am at the moment. Throw in an absolutely grumpy colleague who looks like he’s taken a tumble in the bathroom and the recipe is perfect. A perfect disaster, that is. Consequently, please don’t expect me to keep posting every other day. This post is certainly not a comeback; I still am not planning to change my ways. Please don’t hope otherwise.

P.S. Perhaps the biggest reason why I am still not particular on posting something or the other is the fact that there’s nothing good happening in my life. Forget the office; even personally, matters are deteriorating. Its like falling down an endless pit. One of these days, it could touch the ultimate bottom from where I could find it extremely impossible to climb out of.  I would wish to keep wraps over what I am talking of, but trust me, you would not want to be in my state as of now….

But then, I had reasons to be cheerful. It was a Friday and thats a day when, to most people, the world simply looks brighter and despite all the hardships that the day might offer, there’s always the hope and the promise of a beautiful and sparkling tomorrow. I had put on the bright green tee of mine with a light blue jeans and truth be told, it was hard not to take notice. Well, when you put on an outfit that has a ‘Look At Me’ shade, it is indeed hard to ignore.

Anyways, despite my ill-health and the enormous work  that waited, I wore a smile on my face. I was actually enjoying my work and when you do so, you normally tend to relax and go on with the chores with a joke or two, humming a song all the while. Thats precisely what I did. Four hours of toiling in the morning and at the end of it all, my TL raises her two arms skyward.

“Ajith, its running”, she remarked.

I looked at her, smiling. I did not know what was running, but she seemed extremely pleased that it was. Surely, it was something that had not been doing so for the last couple of hours.

“Whats running, Priya?”

“The 0910 SP”, she remarked. “Its finally running. That too, in under fifteen seconds”.

“Great”. I smiled back at her. She smiled back. Her expression seemed to convey that of a motorist who had successfully mobilized a cow, caught dozing in T-Nagar weekend traffic.

The world had suddenly become extra beautiful. I could leave office at 5.30, I said to myself. It was then that it occurred to me that my friend was leaving for Kerala that night. I immediately open my chat window, double click on her name and proceed to type.

Ellooo

The response comes soon enough. That morning, she had claimed that she was busy, but that did not stop her from responding almost immediately.

Hi

You busy?/

No tell me

When are you leaving today?/

Donno… maybe by six… there’s a Fast…

Okie… your work done?/

Kind of… not doing the whole thing… almost over…

Okie-dokie…

The conversation lingers along and in another ten minutes, I am almost decided that I am leaving with her by the six-thirty train. I still claim I am undecided but yes, that was only a precaution. I knew that I will be on the six-thirty train, come what may.

We have lunch together, talk of meaningless stuff here and there, gobble up the food and half an hour later, I return to my cubicle. Another four hours pass. I finish off the trivial pending work, draft mails to all and sundry, verify them with my TL and eagerly wait for the clock to show 5.45, so that I could pack my sling bag and get out of there.

Time ambles along. It is finally 5.30.I pick my stuff, shove them into the bag, go to the restroom, return in two minutes and am all ready to leave. It is 5.45. I ping her.

When are you leaving?/

No response for two minutes. I close the window, I immediately hear a beep. I open the window. She has replied.

10 mins… be at the bus bay…

okie-dokie

I zip my bag, close all the windows save my mail and speak to my TL.

“Priya, do we have any work pending? I would like to leave by six”.

She thinks for a minute before replying. “No problems, Ajith. There’s nothing much”.

“Okay”, I smile. I meet a couple of teammates, wish them Merry Xmas and a happy weekend and return to my cube. I am just about to shut down my system, when that moment arrives. The moment when the Gods decide to conspire against me.

“Ajith…”

I turn to my TL. She looks at me, crestfallen. I wonder whats wrong.

“Is it urgent?”

I got it. There was some issue to be rectified. No way I am staying Priya, I wanted to tell her.

“Kind of, Priya. Is there an issue?”

“No. We have to mail Sumanth…”

“I have forwarded that mail to you right…”

“Yes, but should some issue arise after we mail him, you’ll have to be here…”

Bollocks. I had been wandering around aimlessly for the last couple of hours, waiting for the time to fly and now, I had none. I wanted to get out of this desperately.God, help me please…

“Thats why I asked you, is it urgent?”

“Aah…actually yes-s…” I responded hesitantly. “I am travelling to Central… I am receiving a couple of relatives…”

“Oh. Hmm… they cant come on their own, is it…”

The time was still flying. I had to get out of this quickly.

“Well actually… they are my grandparents… and they have a couple of bags with them, so I was thinking I could go and help them…”

“Oh Okay”, sighed my TL. It was not an approval, it was more of a please-dont-go sigh. I was caught two minds. I wanted to leave desperately and was close to telling my TL that no issue would arise and that even she could leave. Somehow, I just could not. In the middle of the tension, my friend keeps calling. I answer.

“Hello”

“Aa, where are you…”

“I am at my cube. Where are you”

“I am at the Bus Bay. Aren’t you coming”

I look at my TL with a worried face. She looks into her monitor, refreshing her mailbox every two seconds to ensure whether the onsite coordinator has responded. There seemed to be no progress on that front.

“Ajithe, I am getting late… Are you coming..”

It was a panic situation – one in which, I am forced to make a decision rather than choose an option. Much as I wanted to travel with her, I responded otherwise.

“Edoo… njan illa… you leave… seems there is some more work to do…”

There was a touch of disbelief in her voice. “So you not leaving now…”

I shook my head. “No da. You leave… I will call you, in case I can leave soon…”

“Okay”, she responded and hung up the phone. I heaved a sigh and returned to my desk. I checked my mailbox. The onsite coordinator was still sleeping. Horseshit, I muttered to myself.

Over the next fifteen minutes, I kept messaging her, conveying my extreme disappointment. It was not something that I could express in words. There were several reasons for that – she was someone I was spending half my time at Infy with and not being able to meet her for the whole of next week was saddening. Moreover, I was almost certain until the last minute that I was going to make it until the bus departed. All in all, I was mighty upset. I scratched my head, searching for alternatives until the point when the fifteen minutes exhausted when her message conveyed that the train had started. It was good in a way to know that she was travelling comfortably in the Ladies, but I was deeply disappointed when I thought of the fact that I should have been on that train. If nothing, we could have given each other company at least until my stop came along. Sadly, all those plans went up in smoke….

I reached home at 10.30 that night and until I went to sleep at 3.30 that night, next morning i.e., I was hurt. It was not a bitter pill to swallow but the disappointment I felt that evening was one of massive proportions and one that I would find extremely difficult to put in words.

It was a day to forget indeed. The morning enthusiasm had culminated in the evening letdown. From one extreme to another. I sincerely hope a similar situation does not recur. But knowing the twists and turns that life offers, I wont be surprised if I have to miss the train again.

P.S. The onsite coordinator woke up from his slumber only by 7 pm and in a matter of minutes, responded to our call that there were no issues. Needless to say, I was left thinking ‘I knew it’. Anyways, three of us – my TL, me and a projectmate – caught the next train. And what happened after the projectmate dropped off halfway into the journey is certainly worth another post. Will write about that some other time. If you want a hint, I can say with utmost assurance that my TL must be rating me several notches higher than what she would have before that train journey. Plus, if she were the one deciding my CRR, I could very well be on leave without prior notice for the rest of the month and still bag a CRR-1

In spite of all that, I still cant get over the fact that I was supposed to be on the six-thirty fast….

The book’s eye-catching, particularly because of the interesting title. I have never fantasised that kind of a thing – I put a letter into a bottle, cork it and throw it into the sea, hoping someone would find it and come searching. I am certain I’d never do such a thing – I’ll just keep wondering where the message’s drifted along to, and hope at  every doorbell, that its a reply, despite being certain otherwise. I might even die of the suspense. No exaggerations here………

The 2 central characters of the story – the love-lost guy who sends the message and the divorced woman who receives it – happen to meet and eventually, as expected, fall in love. And like I mentioned, the story moves along predictable lines. The initial passion of love and lust – which had long been missing from their lives  and their memories together eventually lead to a promise of togetherness and commitment from both sides. And one fine day, when she cant turn up for a weekend, due to unforeseen circumstances, the initial spark develops between them. Quarrels, fights, anger, despair, madness, sorrow all follow and the guy ultimately realises that she’s aware of the letters that he’s bottled and thrown into the sea. A sense of betrayal engulfs  him and from then on, it is totally tragic and saddening. It left me thinking of the past and left me pondering ‘WHAT IF……….’

In the end, the book is good, in fact, very good if you like being engrossed in gloom all around you. The most touching part in the entire book, I felt by far, were the letters sent by him to his deceased wife. Credit to Sparks there, he’s penned those lines splendidly, and I can bet a lot of thought has gone into picking the right words. Each of the 5 letters is heart-touching – the pain the writer experiences, is obvious. For me, the letters are the trumpcards in what is otherwise, a not-so-special book.

And yes, personally, there are memories as well. It would be wrong to say that I can compare with the passionate, lovelost hero but most times, I can comprehend the situation and understand it well enough. I have had similarly painful experiences, which ultimately leave me thinking…..’ONLY IF I’D ACTED OTHERWISE…..’

The book as a whole is touching and endearing. A must-read, if you’ve fallen in love sometime in your life………